


Purple Skirt

by Arwriter



Series: Learned Behavior [13]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Abuse, Past manipulation, Platonic Relationships, Self-Esteem Issues, Skirts, Supportive and protective roman, abuse recovery, everyone loves Virgil as usual, sides in skirts, sympathetic dark sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwriter/pseuds/Arwriter
Summary: Patton and Logan look amazing in their skirts, but Virgil knows he doesn't get the same freedom when it comes to clothing.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Series: Learned Behavior [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918165
Comments: 27
Kudos: 272





	Purple Skirt

**Author's Note:**

> yes, I made the skirt pictures angsty. no one should be surprised.

The first time he’d been able to even look at a skirt without wanting to throw up was when Patton had come bouncing down the stairs, looking absolutely  _ delighted  _ in his new suspenders skirt, and Virgil had smiled along with him without even thinking about the memories. 

He was so happy and radiant and  _ god  _ Virgil wished he could do the same. The idea of wearing a skirt around the mindscape, never giving it a second thought, allowing himself to be comfortable and confident like Patton could be was...amazing. 

Logan had donned a skirt a couple weeks later, wearing it as casually as any other outfit, and he’d barely batted an eye when they had all jumped up to compliment him. 

They were all so...comfortable with it. And of course they were, they were  _ allowed  _ to be. They deserved to be. Everyone was, except Virgil. He knew that. 

Which is why he had no idea what had possessed him to start wearing a skirt in the privacy of his own room. 

It was a horrible idea, and his hands started shaking every time he shut his door and put on the dark purple skirt, but...but he liked it. He _liked_ wearing skirts, and the light side’s outfits had reminded him of that. 

He’d tried to wear skirts a few years ago, but the Others had very quickly shut that down, drilling into his brain how selfish and horrible it was to even  _ consider  _ outfits like that an option. 

Anyone  _ else  _ could wear a skirt. Anyone else could wear whatever they wanted. But Virgil didn’t have that right. Virgil was disgusting and useless, and he didn’t deserve that comfort. 

Besides, they looked horrible on him. He didn’t need to look any more pathetic than he already was. He’d been mocked and beaten and screamed at for forcing other people to see him like that, for thinking for a  _ second  _ that it had been remotely acceptable. They’d made themselves very clear, and they hadn’t stopped until Virgil had understood. Anxiety didn’t get to wear skirts. 

Now...now he knew he wouldn’t be beaten if he was caught in a skirt. He knew by now not to assume his family would hurt him, especially not over something so small. 

But he’d still be told off. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be wearing something like this, knew it was disgusting of him to even try. Patton and Logan looked amazing but Virgil was...well, Virgil. 

Still, after seeing Logan and Patton’s skirts he hadn’t been able to help himself. He was careful about it, only changing once a week at most with his door locked, always when he was sure he’d have time to himself where no one would come looking. 

The first few times, he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, taunts, hate, and repulsion echoing in his head every second the skirt was on. He hadn’t been able to keep it on for more than five minutes. 

But recently, he’d started to feel a bit more comfortable. He knew it wasn’t ok, knew better than to risk letting anyone see him, but...with no one around to tell him how disgusting he looked, he allowed himself a few glances in the mirror, and let himself keep it on for longer. 

It was comforting, freeing, and...maybe if it was anyone else, it might actually look  _ good.  _

He should have known better than to drop his guard like that.

Virgil had put his skirt on about half an hour ago, closing himself off in his room until dinner, his usual ripped jeans laid out for him to quickly slip on before heading back downstairs. 

He’d gotten too comfortable- too  _ relaxed,  _ lounging on his bed with his music playing and his eyes slipped shut and his head went foggy, losing track of time completely. 

“You in there, Hot Topic?” Roman’s call and gentle knocking didn’t startle Virgil like it usually would, and he groggily lifted his head from the pillow, slipping off his headphones. “Can I come in?” 

Virgil rubbed sleep from his eyes, pushed himself up on the bed, and waved a hand to unlock his door without a second thought. 

He then immediately realized his mistake as soon as the handle started to turn.  _ Shit shit shit-- _

He scrambled off the bed, suddenly wide awake as his feet hit the carpeted floor, but he didn’t have a chance to get anywhere to hide before Roman was standing in the doorway, eyes going wide. 

For a split second, Virgil let himself be overtaken by dangerous, desperate hope. The light sides had pleasantly surprised him so many times already- it was  _ ok  _ for him to make mistakes, it was fine if he dropped something or made a loud noise or talked too much- so maybe...maybe this was ok too? 

But then Roman opened his mouth, and old instinct and far too familiar fear took over. 

“Sorry,” Virgil blurted as he shrank back, wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn’t...s-sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“Wait, what?” Roman stepped closer, and Virgil internally cursed himself for flinching. This wasn’t like last time, this  _ wasn’t like last time.  _ “Virgil. Why’re you sorry?” 

He shrugged, suddenly hyper aware of the way the plaid skirt hugged his waist, draping just above the knee to show off the black and white striped stockings. He found himself absently tugging at the end of the material. 

“I...I’m not--” he cut himself off when his voice grew unsteady, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’m not supposed to, but I- I wasn’t going to leave the room. I know I- that I can’t--” 

“Oh, Virgil of  _ course  _ you can.” Roman’s voice was soft, always so genuine, and this time Virgil didn’t flinch back when the Prince took another step. “You look  _ amazing.” _

Virgil’s shoulders hunched on instinct, and he scrambled to figure out if that was sarcasm in the Prince’s tone, because he’d been expecting something far more hurtful. 

“I...you don’t have to, I was just- it was stupid. I- I forgot I was wearing it, I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Roman said, but his smile suddenly dropped. “Oh, Stormcloud you’re  _ shaking.”  _

Oh. Virgil hadn’t even realized how bad he’d started trembling, too scared to meet Roman’s eyes despite them radiating nothing but kindness. 

“Hey.” The Prince held out his hands, and Virgil risked a cautious glance up from the floor. “Come here?” 

Virgil let his shoulders drop, but his defenses were still raised, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always expecting some kind of trap or trick. He still couldn’t help it. 

But he let himself close the distance between them and fall into Roman’s chest, letting out a shuddering breath as strong arms wrapped around him, gentle but secure. 

“You can wear a skirt, Virgil,” Roman said. “Did you...think I would be angry with you?” 

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to speak again just yet. All he was able to manage was a small nod against Roman’s chest. 

“Why?” he asked, voice still soft but Virgil thought there was a hint of something defensive. “I wear skirts all the time. So does Remus. And Patton and Logan have--” 

“I know.” Virgil took another small, trembling breath. “And you- you all look great. Obviously. Everyone can- everyone can wear whatever, I’m not...I just...can’t.” 

Roman pulled back slightly, but Virgil couldn’t meet his gaze. “Why not?” 

“Because I’m...I’m gross, and I shouldn’t...I can’t. Not like you guys, it’s not...it’s not allowed. It’s...probably bad for my influence over Thomas or something.. Plus I, uh- I look horrible in most things anyway, so…”

He trailed off, and his heart sank when he caught a glimpse of the look on Roman’s face. He was watching Virgil intently, head tilted slightly, eyes filled with something sad and...and angry. 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Shit, he’d been talking too long hadn’t he? He was being annoying and he was  _ still  _ making Roman see him like this and he probably just wanted Virgil to shut  _ up  _ already. “I didn’t mean to ramble, I’m sorry, I’ll change and then--” 

“I’m not upset with you,” Roman said, and Virgil quickly fell silent. “This is...just one more thing they took away from you, isn’t it?” 

Virgil shrugged, back to wrapping his arms around himself like a useless shield. He felt tears spring to the corners of his eyes, face burning hot, and he quickly blinked them away. 

“I guess,” he muttered. “They didn’t really want me to...like myself. It’s still...hard, you know? To get their voices out of my head.” 

He tried not to think about it. He tried to block out the vicious, horrible things that had been said to him every time they’d raised a fist, their words just as powerful as a punch. 

They’d hurt him so  _ bad,  _ and they’d worked so hard to make him hate himself as much as they hated him. 

He wasn’t going to roll over and accept that. Not anymore. He’d get better now that he had people who loved him by his side. It just...god, it was so hard sometimes. 

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever heard the Prince sound so grim. “Trust me, Virgil. I know.” 

Virgil didn’t doubt that. He dug his foot into the carpet, doing what he could to remind himself that Roman wasn't upset. The prince wasn’t disgusted by him, he didn’t think he was pathetic, and he wasn’t angry that Virgil was making him look at Anxiety longer than necessary. 

“Yeah, well. Self esteem is overrated.” 

Roman laughed, but he was still staring at Virgil with something sorrowful and uncertain. “Maybe. But if it helps, I think you look absolutely stunning.” 

“What?” Virgil scoffed, even as he was sure his face was bright red by now. “N-no, I...I don’t. Look, I can just change--” 

“Virgil, have you even  _ looked  _ in the mirror?” Roman asked, and Virgil tried not to flinch because those words had been said to him before, just under  _ very  _ different circumstances. 

But Roman was suddenly taking his hands, dragging him (gently, of course) into Virgil’s bathroom, standing in front of the sink and looking in the mirror. It was something he tried to avoid as much as possible, but with the way Princey was  _ beaming  _ at him...for the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to be so apprehensive. 

“How long have you had this?” Roman asked, and at Virgil’s blank stare he quickly gestured to the outfit- an older black hoodie over a white shirt, black and white stockings, and the plaid purple skirt. 

“Uh...I don’t know, it’s just some clothes. The skirt is kinda new, though. I had to make a new one after my old one was…”  _ destroyed,  _ was really the only accurate way to put it. And they hadn’t even waited for him to take it off. Somehow he really doubted that would make Roman feel any better. “Lost. It’s...it’s pretty stupid, I know.” 

“Not at all!” Princey said, and Virgil didn’t know why he couldn’t just give in and believe him. “Just look! You’re  _ beautiful!”  _

He seemed so excited, eyes brimming with awe and eagerness, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to protest. Even when he was struck with the familiar urge to avert his gaze as soon as he came face to face with his own reflection. 

It was just...him. Nothing special, nothing particularly good, just plain, dark and brooding Anxiety. But he’d been taught, over and over and over again, to hate every little thing about himself. Just like everyone else already did. 

But that had been a lie, just like nearly everything else he’d been told. The people who mattered didn’t hate him, and they did much more than tolerate his presence. 

He just...didn’t know where to start when it came to liking anything about himself. 

Luckily, Roman already seemed to be two steps ahead of him. 

“You are  _ not  _ disgusting,” he said, completely catching Virgil off guard. “And I swear, if I could I would run my sword through every single person who ever put that thought in your head.” 

“Please don’t.” It came out a whisper, soft and pathetic. They’d had this talk before, countless times, but each time it sent terror shooting through his chest. “Please--” 

“I know. As much as I want to make them suffer...I would never betray your trust by doing something so selfish. It will always be up to you whether or not I go after them.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped, relief just as dizzying as the last few times. “Thank you.” 

“But I mean it,” Roman said. “They were so,  _ so  _ wrong. We think you’re wonderful, Virgil. We...we all think you’re amazing. I know you don’t see it, but- but  _ we _ do. And every day you shine just a little bit brighter.” 

“Princey--” 

“Did you know Patton couldn’t stop crying that first night we found out about what happened to you? He kept it together right until you fell asleep and then he...Logan held him until he exhausted himself. And Lo was...we were all so  _ angry.”  _

Virgil couldn’t turn around, instead staring at Roman’s reflection through the mirror. “I...I’m--” 

“This isn’t a guilt thing,” Roman clarified. “I’m saying we didn’t  _ understand.  _ We still don’t. How someone could look at you and not see someone incredible. You’ve been through so much and we’re...I’m honored to get to meet the person you always deserved to be.” 

And, yeah Virgil was definitely going to cry now, fresh tears just replacing the ones he wiped away. But maybe that was ok, because Roman’s eyes were red and watery now too. 

“Back to the point,” Roman said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can wear what you want. Always. My only request is that you don’t outshine  _ me.”  _

Virgil snorted, even as uncertainty and apprehension still rested heavy on his chest. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Princey.” 

“Well, I stand by what I said,” Roman announced, clapping his hands together. “You look  _ stunning.  _ And I’m sure the others will agree. Patton will be  _ thrilled  _ to have another skirt-buddy. Why don’t we head down so you can--” 

“No!” 

Roman had already started for the bathroom door, stopping in his tracks and spinning back around at Virgil’s outburst. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but…

But the terror that had hit when Roman had caught him just moments before, the disgust with himself that had just been starting to dissipate a bit...all of it hit full force again at the thought of going downstairs like this. 

He wanted to. He wanted to know he could be comfortable and learn to feel ok again so  _ bad.  _ But he couldn’t. There was no way. 

“Virge--” 

“I  _ can’t.”  _ And now he was going to upset Roman, after the Prince had tried so  _ hard  _ to get Virgil to stop being such a coward. And now he probably  _ was  _ going to be angry- or disappointed at the very least. Virgil wasn’t sure which one was worse. “I’m sorry, sorry it’s just--” 

“Hey, it’s ok,” Roman said, with way more patience than Virgil deserved at this point. “I’m not going to force you out of your comfort zone, Emo. Prince’s honor. We go at your pace, and your pace only.” 

Virgil stuffed his hands into the hoodie pockets, fighting the urge to pull up his hood. “You’re not, like...mad?” 

“I’m not mad, Virgil,” Roman assured, and smiled. “Take your time. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” 

“Ok.” Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shaky and small, and once again he wondered what he’d done to deserve this much kindness. “Ok. I’m uh, I’m gonna change. I’ll be down for dinner soon.” 

There was no annoyance, no frustration or exasperated eyeroll. Just a nod from Roman and another gentle, understanding smile as the Prince slipped through the door and left him alone again. 

For a moment, standing in his silent bedroom with his black jeans in his hands, Virgil considered keeping the skirt on. 

He wasn’t...he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t the selfish, horrible, grotesque villain he’d been taught to think he was. 

He had the right to say, do, and wear whatever he wanted. He was just as free to exist and express himself as anyone else in the mindscape. 

It was what his family told him, over and over and over again. And it was what he was trying desperately to begin to believe. 

But he was almost positive that if he tried to step outside right now he’d have a panic attack before he reached the bottom of the stairs. So he took another deep breath, steadied himself, and changed back into his regular jeans and oversized hoodie. 

He wasn’t going to suddenly lose the right to recover if he took his time. There wasn’t a time limit to all of this. And like Roman had said, they’d be there when he was ready.

  
  


It was another few weeks before Roman heard a knock on his door, timid and familiar enough for him to know it was Virgil before he pulled it open with a smile. 

The anxious side was standing in the hall, arms wrapped around his middle as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, shoulders hunched in a defensive stand and...oh. 

He was wearing the outfit Roman hadn’t gotten the chance to see since their talk in his room, complete with the plaid purple skirt that the Prince thought looked absolutely  _ perfect  _ on Virgil. 

“Good afternoon,” Roman said, fighting to sound as nonchalant as possible, all too aware of how big of a deal this was. “You heading downstairs?” 

Virgil took a minute before nodding slowly, chewing incessantly on his lip, still fidgeting in the doorway. 

“Alright,” Roman said, hoping it was at least a little encouraging. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

He could see Virgil trying to compose himself, recognized the slow, deliberate breaths he was taking in an effort to fight against rising panic, and Roman’s heart throbbed at the watery, scared look in his eyes. 

“Could you…” Virgil trailed off, squeezing his hands into fists. “Could you come with me? Please?” 

Roman softened, and stepped into the hallway. “Of course.” 

It wasn’t until he held out a hand, letting Virgil latch onto him and squeeze as tight as he needed, that he realized just how bad the anxious side was shaking. Just like the first time Roman had seen him in the skirt. 

As nice as it looked, it was a fairly simple outfit. Roman had worn far more extravagant things, and other than excited compliments from Patton, no one really looked twice. 

He couldn’t imagine what the others had done to make Virgil so  _ afraid  _ of being seen in a skirt. 

But this wasn’t the time for that. Roman forcefully pushed his anger back down, and squeezed Virgil’s hand in response. He didn’t stop trembling the entire trip down the hall. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Patton and Logan’s voices began to filter in from the living room, and Virgil suddenly stopped, breath catching in his throat, looking to Roman with wide, panicked eyes. 

“What...what if they--” 

“Nothing bad will happen to you,” Roman said. “I swear it. But we don’t have to do this today if you aren’t ready. Like I said, we go at your pace.” 

Virgil’s eyes were glued to the stairs, tense and unmoving, clutching Roman’s hand like he thought it would be ripped away at any moment. 

Roman was fully willing to stand here for hours if it meant Virgil would be comfortable, but it only took a few minutes for his breathing to even out slightly, some of the tension in his shoulders coming undone. 

“Ok,” he said softly, probably more to himself than to Roman. “Ok. I’m...I’m good. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Roman promised. “Your pace, Virge. I’m here.” 

They made their way down the steps together, slow and steady, Roman letting Virgil move as fast as he wanted, stopping to take a few seconds to breathe whenever he needed. 

Logan and Patton were lounged on the couch by the time they made it to the living room, the logical side lost to the contents of the open book on his lap. 

Virgil suddenly froze in the doorway, looking up at Roman like he thought the Prince was the only thing standing in between him and certain death. 

And then Patton glanced up at the movement, and Roman couldn’t remember the last time the moral side had smiled so wide. 

“Oh my gosh! Virgil, you look so  _ good!”  _

Virgil automatically flinched against Roman’s side as Patton jumped up from the couch, but Roman could see surprise battling with doubt and confusion as he took in Patton’s happiness. 

“I...yeah?” 

And in the middle of it all, a small flicker of hope. 

“Yes!” Patton practically squealed. He rushed over to take Virgil’s hands, and Roman stepped away with one last reassuring smile. “I didn’t know you liked skirts, kiddo! You should have told me!” 

Virgil was searching Patton’s face, probably making sure there wasn’t any hint of hidden disgust in his words, before relaxing ever so slightly. “Yeah, I...wanted to try it, I guess.” 

“You look so pretty!” Patton was bouncing up and down now, Virgil’s hands still in his. “Don’t you think so, Logan?” 

Roman glanced at the logical side still seated on the couch, unsurprised to find a look of pride and quiet understanding.

“He does,” Logan agreed. “The outfit itself is aesthetically pleasing, and the colors suit you very well, Virgil. I am glad you were comfortable enough to try something new.” 

Virgil shrugged, cheeks turning a light shade of red, briefly meeting Roman’s eyes with a small, thankful smile. “It’s...it’s whatever.” 

“We should have a skirt day!” Patton announced suddenly. “Can we have a skirt day?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “A...skirt day?” 

“We can all wear our skirts together! Do you think we could get Janus and Remus to join us?” 

Roman chuckled, beyond relieved for the small smile now beginning to overtake Virgil’s features. “I’m sure you could, padre.” 

“Patton, it is simply an article of clothing,” Logan pointed out, completely lost. “Why do we need an entire  _ day  _ dedicated to wearing it?” 

“Because! It’s--” 

Patton was suddenly interrupted by Virgil suddenly wrapping his arms around the moral side, pulling him close in a tight, almost desperate embrace. 

Virgil so rarely was the one to initiate physical contact, as much as he needed it, always terrified of being seen as needy or ungrateful. From what Roman had gathered, Virgil had been told he was too disgusting to be touched in any way other than violent. 

“Oh, kiddo.” Despite his obvious surprise, Patton didn’t hesitate before hugging back. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, honey? Did I upset you?” 

Virgil shook his head, still clutching Patton’s shirt as he pulled back. Roman wanted so badly to rush over and hold him close when he realized Virgil was smiling through his tears, so clearly overwhelmed but so  _ so  _ relieved. 

“No- no, it’s-” he took in a shuddering breath, struggling to get a hold of himself. “I’m... _ thank you.  _ I just- I love you all so  _ much.”  _

And then he was covering his mouth with his hand, crying quietly as Patton gathered him back into his arms, squeezing his eyes shut but relaxing further when the other two sides hurried to join the embrace. 

Roman couldn’t even imagine the weight that had just been lifted from Virgil’s shoulders, how rewarding acceptance without question must have felt. Especially when for him, every step forward was like climbing a mountain. 

He caught Logan sending him a questioning look, but he quickly shook his head. Later. They could talk it out later. Right now…

Right now Virgil just needed the reassurance. And Roman knew they were all more than happy to remind him they would never get tired of giving it to him. 

  
  



End file.
